


Sweet Berry Pie

by willowthorn



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, I would almost consider this... fluff?, Multi, heavy on the comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26384311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowthorn/pseuds/willowthorn
Summary: Gentle moments in a quiet cabin.
Relationships: Ishikawa Goemon XIII/Jigen Daisuke/Arsène Lupin III/Mine Fujiko
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29
Collections: Lupin III Big Bang 2020





	Sweet Berry Pie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [patchesotron](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=patchesotron).



Crash - the shudder and fall of glass is a distant buzz as Lupin’s gun rings beside his ear, Goemon barreling towards the makeshift exit with Jigen cradled in one arm, blood smearing onto the pale fabric of his top from the ugly wound half-hidden by his hat. Lupin crows victory from immediately behind him, yelping as gunshot powders the wall beside him. He moves with remarkable speed, skidding across marble floors to come tumbling out the window beside Goemon. He rolls, dirt and glass clinging to his suit jacket as he meets the ground from the third story window. 

Goemon grits his teeth as he feels shocks course up and down his legs, landing hard. Jigen’s head bounces against his shoulder, and he can feel the spray of gravel kicked up by scattered shots hit his calves. He watches Lupin use the momentum from his roll power ahead, flinging open the car doors as Fujiko revs the engines. The tires spin, ripping into muddy ground. Goemon barely has time to hand Jigen over to Lupin in the back seat before jumping, car already on the move as he finds his place on the roof, sword at the ready.

The ugly growl of the Russian mob’s motorcycles rumbles through his chest within seconds of them meeting the main road. He taps the roof, the car bucking as Fujiko presses on the gas. The dark curve of the mountain does nothing to help hide the bright yellow of the fiat. 

They have half an hour to the Finnish border. They have 45 minutes to the safe house, their cluttered off-grid cabin just outside of a town just barely big enough to have a singular cafe and a place to buy firewood. They could only hope Jigen wouldn’t actually need anything beyond a few stitches and a glass of scotch.

He closes his eyes, extends his senses. Cool night air rushes by him, the kiss of slowly falling snow made quick by their relentless pace chills his warm skin. He can feel it on the back of his neck, can feel the shadows of the black forest on his left side rise and fall. The reverberation of the bikes do not draw any closer to him, and as they pass the next ridge in a downward spiral he stands, turns to see the oncoming glint of a long-range rifle poking out between the boughs of an evergreen. It’s trained on Fujiko, he knows. There’s a second trained on him. 

A small bump in the road is all he needs to launch himself high, soaring easily towards the trees. He lands softly, sword leading him as he runs from tree to tree, body parallel to the ground below. The collapse of ancient branches muffles the screams of awe, of fear, of frustration as silver barrels clatter on the rapidly cooling ground behind their tires. 

The fiat swerves through stray branches, Fujiko’s driving smooth as silk. He watches the road curve to the right. He cuts one more tree, riding it until it meets the unfeeling ground. The fiat narrowly scrapes under the shadow of it before it hits home, and his feet find the cool of the roof again. He can hear Lupin whistle out the back window, and he can feel the unwelcome bubble of pride in his chest. 

It’s easy after that.

They slow only once they reach the sleepy little town at the base of the mountains, narrowly avoiding having to pull into the emergency offramp. Fujiko has the radio on now, cheerful music garbled and far too loud for this time of night. It’s an easy cover - better to be dismissed as drunk idiots than have people wondering what they’re running from. Lupin sings along, his hands scratching small circles behind Jigen’s ears before covering them against the worst of the noise. Jigen’s own hands cross in his lap, his tipped hat obscuring the discomfort Lupin could read through the rest of his body, the no-doubt killer migraine only loosening its grip on him once they had safely passed the town and could finally slow down, finally let silence overtake the car. 

They reach their house sometime near three in the morning, Goemon cold to the touch as he finally moves from the roof of the fiat, tries to help Lupin move Jigen to the house. Fujiko sends him away, tells him to go get the fire in the living room stoked. Jigen is half-aware, hissing as Lupin slips slightly on the frosty ground. Fujiko huffs, waving him off too to go get the medical kit ready. She shifts her stance, adjusting Jigen’s arms around her shoulders so she can carry him inside on her own.

He barely protests, a weary sigh passing his lips as he finally comes to rest on the ugly plaid cushions of the couch. Lupin sits on the low table before him, the hat moved from Jigen’s head to rest on his chest as Lupin carefully prods the area around his wound, flashlight held in his lips as he tries to survey the extent of the damage. The warm glow of the fire crackles behind him, Goemon rejoining them with a shallow bowl of water and a towel. 

Jigen’s hair is pushed back as Lupin taps his cheek, flashlight moving slowly. Fujiko watches dark eyes squint, a headache apparent in Jigen’s pinched features. A concussion, but he was awake and aware enough, still able to remember everything that had happened with almost complete clarity. Goemon cleans his temples of blood and sweat, Fujiko joining her boys to distract Lupin by taking care of his ankle where it swells ugly under the stretch of his sock. He had been running on a sprain. If he hadn’t nearly slipped outside, Fujiko would have hardly guessed. She checks Goemon as well, seeing no new marks on his toned body, no lasting stiffness in his muscles. She doesn’t let her relief show, but she squeezes Lupin’s shoulder slightly before relieving him of his jacket. 

She roots around in Lupin’s jacket pockets, a small pile of knickknacks and gadgets forming on the table beside her during the pursuit of her prize. She pulls out her loupe to inspect the structures of the opal once it rests safely in her palm. It gleams, even in the low yellow light of the fire, and she knows that she’d be able to wring at least double it’s estimated value out of the right hands. She decides to stow it on the bedside table, shaking out sheets that had been left in a tangle that morning on her way.

That night they sleep in rounds, Goemon taking the first shift to watch over them, gentle light marking houses with young children with their nightlights glowing in the village below. Other lights mark bouts of insomnia, or a casual trip to the kitchen for a midnight snack. He watches all those little sparks, listens to the wind in the trees and the gentle hiss of the river. Two hours into his watch, he stretches, places a cold hand on Jigen’s cheek, watching with amusement as the gunman flinches back, waking instantly. 

“Jesus christ, Goemon - at least warm up before you wake me like that.” Jigen sits upright, petting Lupin as the master thief grumbles at the disturbance, squeezing Jigen’s middle tighter. 

“Good, you’re still acting normally. Any nausea or difference in pain levels?” Goemon is cast in silver from the moonlight, the clear light letting Jigen see his dark eyes dragging across Jigen’s features, looking closely for any sign that something had changed.

“Nah, just thirsty. You mind?” Jigen moves his hands slightly, drawing attention to the two clinging to him, well guarded against the cool night air. Goemon finds them in much the same position when he returns a few minutes later, tall glass handed off. He waits patiently as Jigen drinks before stretching just slightly to place it on the side table next to the opal. 

“Thanks, Goemon. You going up for round two of watch, or should I kick Lupin out of bed?” 

“I will be fine, thanks. I take it you’re still doing alright?” 

“Oh I’m absolutely fine not having to sit up there for four hours, freezing my nips off. My headache is fine too - nothing worse, no nausea. So you can stop worrying any time.” Jigen makes himself comfortable again, knowing that it would only be another two hours until he was woken again. 

The last thing he feels before he fully falls asleep again is the light touch of lips against his bandaged forehead, careful to avoid the stitches hidden below. He feels the lightest tickle of long hair against his nose, the clean smell of cedar and rushing water. 

In the afternoon, Fujiko bakes pie. It’s a sweet aroma that floats through the pine-and-fire country air. Lupin rolls, curious as he slides out of bed, mindful of his still bandaged ankle. He limps to the kitchen, sinks into one of the mis-matched chairs right off to the side. Her hair is up, a streak of flour on her cheek as she rolls out fragrant dough, filling bubbling in a pot on the wood-fire stove. Through the grating he can see the crust blind baking. He watches as a cool spring breeze from the window plays with a loose curl of hair on her neck, and he wants to speak to her in french. He speaks to her in japanese, talks about the opal they have, the hundreds others that would be fun to steal. 

Goemon joins them about ten minutes later, hair in damp curls against his neck from his bath in the nearby river. He pauses for a moment when he sees who’s baking, eyebrows arched. He glances at Lupin, relaxing fully when he sees the grin on his face. 

They sit together on opposite sides of the table, warm mugs of genmaicha finding their way into their hands as they talk through Finnish river fish. Fujiko hands them off without a word, as if the cups were just a natural consequence of making tea for herself. 

She joins them at the small table in time, stirring honey into her tea. 

“I did not know you baked.” Goemon’s voice held no surprise.

“Mm, I just wanted pie. That doesn’t mean I bake.” She shrugs. She turns to Lupin, leaving Goemon content to watch their conversation continue.They start with rumors, off-chance run-ins with other swindlers and murderers for hire, where the big names seem to be gravitating. Lupin and Fujiko talk like office gossips, betting what each could get if they took their next mark to market instead of adding it to Lupin’s private collection. Fujiko doesn’t stop talking even as she kicks the oven door shut, pie shell in her hands as she fills it, laying the top crust on carefully. Goemon puts on a second round of tea behind her, pulling his hair and sleeves back to stoke the fires in the living room and bedroom, low coals bursting to life under his practiced hand. They’d need the warmth soon enough, the pale sun dragging itself slowly across the horizon. 

The pie is in the oven again by the time he returns, deep purple filling poking between the carefully laid holes, simple decorations charming but laid with skill. Lupin has refilled their mugs, a fourth cup steaming in his hands. 

“I’m gonna wake grumpy up - wish me luck.” He kisses Goemon’s cheek as they move around each other. Goemon huffs, blush on his cheek as he sits. Fujiko decides her own seat wasn’t comfy enough, choosing to move to sit in his lap, laughing to herself as his cheeks go from dusted to bright red. 

“I swear, the pie isn’t even out of the oven yet - we can’t serve it for another hour at least or Jigen is going to get a hot mixed berry mess all over his chest.” 

“It is best to not eat sweets right after waking up anyway.” Goemon lets himself lean just ever so slightly against her shoulder, breathing a sigh as she moves her hands through his hair, nails scratching slightly. 

“Speaking from experience, are you?” She nudges him slightly, pinching his ear slightly as his blush breaks from his cheeks to travel to the tips of his ears. 

In the shaded dark of Jigen’s room, Lupin places the warm mug on the wooden bedside table, bed dipping as he sits beside Jigen, watching as his gunman breathes slowly, easily. Bandages loop around his head, stark white against the dark of his hair, his skin. 

Lupin bends carefully, a gentle kiss sending Jigen’s eyes fluttering open.

“I was already awake, asshole.” Jigen grumbles, shifting slightly as if to stretch himself out. He winces, fingers moving to skim the edge of his bandages. 

“Good morning, handsome. It’s the middle of the afternoon, you know. If you keep on sleeping you’ll be awake all night, and then where would we be? It’ll be 3 am and I’d have to tire you out so the rest of us could sleep without you fidgeting.” Lupin guides his hand back down to the covers slowly, reaching around him to adjust his pillows. Jigen sits up with a groan, automatically searching for his cigarettes. Lupin hands him the tea first, pulling his own smokes from his pocket. He lights up, taking a single drag before handing it to Jigen.

“You know that one time we got into a fight with a 6”4’ lesbian cause I thought her girlfriend was some twink I knew like ten years ago?” Jigen breathes, smoke slipping from his lips.

“Yes dear, I was there.” He remembers the blue light of the smoke filled bar, the bright drinks cheerful, the small dancefloor packed. 

“I feel like she just pulled me behind her pickup truck for a mile.” 

Lupin laughs, a smile on Jigen’s face as he moves from his cigarette to his tea. 

“So, who’s the one baking? Smells great.” Jigen looks next to normal, lounging comfortably now that he’s had his nicotine fix. 

“Fujiko! Mixed berry pie. Apparently there’s this neat little farmer’s market in town that’s selling pretty fresh stuff despite the season being like… four months away. Greenhouses, apparently. I suspect they’re really imports but hey! When you want pie, you want pie.” Lupin rolls his wrist, shifting so he could put his legs up. Jigen gives him the space easily, shifting over carefully.

“Goemon go pick them up for her?” Jigen hums, settling back fully. He hands off his tea without comment, Lupin taking a sip before setting it aside.

“Yeah - you know he’s very good at Finnish now, much better than the first time we took him here.” Lupin rests his head against his shoulder, looping his fingers in Jigen’s own.

“Great, maybe I can get him to teach me how to do that thing with the r’s that you refuse to teach me cause you think it’s funny.”

“Noooo, I think it’s cute.” Lupin pouts, nudging Jigen.

“You think all of me is cute, and I’m bored of having to play a tourist every time we come here." Jigen nudges back, the two of them chatting softly until they hear the creek of the door, the near silent sound of socked feet moving across the floor. It had been tempting, for a moment, to drift away in the warm afternoon light, Lupin beside him. But he supposed for Fujiko’s baking he could stay up a little bit longer. 

Goemon has the majority of plates balanced on his arms - he would remember that for the next time they needed one of them to go undercover as a waiter - and Fujiko juggling mugs and a steaming kettle. She takes the time to refill it before handing them out, pie already resting in his lap as Goemon pulls up a chair for himself. Fujiko just sits on the bed, tea balanced carefully on her knee as she eats. 

The crust is light and flakey, a beautiful golden brown as Jigen cuts into it, the rich filling holding itself steady. It all but melts in his mouth, a contented hum coming from him unbidden. 

“Told you I knew my way around the kitchen, Jigen.” Fujiko brags, chin tilted up like a cat to receive scratches at the unspoken praise.

“Great, so next week you’re gonna join in the dinner rotation?” Jigen nudges her with his foot, chuckling as she slaps him away. 

“What? No way! My talents are far too deep to waste on a bunch of weird guys like you. If I’m going to cook a full meal for someone, they better be rich and pretty.” 

“Awh, c’mon Fujicakes. Goemon is pretty enough, and I’m rich enough, so just one meal? Please? This is so good, I want to eat your cooking forever.” Lupin begs, Goemon silently reaching out to steal his pie, lifting the plate smoothly out of Lupin’s lap to replace the slice Goemon had already finished. 

“If you really want it that badly, you’ll have to try a lot harder to convince me.” Fujiko sticks her tongue out, Lupin slouching as he bemoans her refusal. It is only then he notices his missing pie, Goemon already walking out of the room with his fork in his mouth, the small sliver of remaining pie threatening to disappear as Lupin stumbles after the samurai. 

“Hey, get me another slice while you’re out there.” Jigen calls out after them, Fujiko moving to take his plate and refill his tea. 

“Geeze, you guys are so greedy. I wanted to keep at least a bit for tomorrow.” Fujiko sighs, handing off his mug before tucking herself beside him, her own steaming mug between her carefully manicured hands.

“Can’t help it - if it’s worth anything, Lupin’s gotta have it. I’m only taking my proper share as his right-hand man.” Jigen shrugs, letting himself melt into the pillows. Fujiko snorts something that sounds suspiciously like ‘boys’. 

They spend the remainder of the afternoon like that, all golden light and berry pie.


End file.
